Words Like Wind ᚠ Thorin Oakenshield

twσ: α mαp, α kєч, αnd α cσntrαct

A dwarf wearing a blue cloak and silver tassel stood on the other side of the door. His hair was laced with silver yet he was not old and his eyes were blue, but in the light of Bag End looked to be the color of the sky before a coming winter storm. Arethusa stood behind the dwarves, peeking out from her spot between the widest dwarf and the shortest. The fairy had yet to hear him speak but she knew, by the way, he held his head high he was nobility. It was both alluring and repellent.

"Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door." The fairy silently scoffed, there was only one road in Hobbiton and before it could branch out you would see Bilbo's door.

"Mark? There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago." Curiously, Bilbo glanced to his door barely seeing the faint runic marking.

"There is a mark; I put it there myself." Gandalf was quick to anger and Arethusa could tell by his tone that he was becoming agitated with the hobbit's lack of enthusiasm. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." The fairy slunk back, further away from the company of dwarves as Gandalf had forgotten about her for the moment. She had heard that name before but now whatever memory associated with it had faded into over a hundred lifetimes.

"So, this is the Hobbit." Thorin peered down at Bilbo, his gaze nothing less than scrutinizing of the rather small fellow. "Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?" Arethusa furrowed her brows, hobbits were not bred for battle. They were gentle folk who loved the comforts of home more so than adventures and unpredictable lifestyles. "Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" The leader of the company questioned.

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevant." Bilbo was quite proud of his skill at the children's game, but Conkers would not help him in the wild, even Arethusa knew that much. Going out your door was always a dangerous business.

The dwarves flooded through to the dining room once again, only this time, their manners were not a complete loss. The fairy slipped from the door, breathing in the cool air of the night. Mazey perked her head up from where she had been munching on grass.

"I've had enough of dwarves for today," she began, "in fact, I think I've had enough of them for the rest of my life." The pony snorted like she agreed. Arethusa brushed back her mane and sighed. She would leave this instant but thought better of it as she never left without telling her dear friend goodbye. When the chill finally settled into her bones she returned back to the hobbit hole, ignoring the eyes that followed her every move. She found Bilbo sitting in his armchair, a mug of tea in his hands, face white as a bedsheet and quietly talking to Gandalf.

Arethusa placed her hand on the hobbit's forehead out of instinct, "Look what you've done to him, wizard." Gandalf let out a long puff of pipe smoke.

"Then it is a good thing there is a healer on hand." She scowled at the old man and went to rummage around in the kitchen, hoping to find feverfew, or maybe even lemon balm and lavender, something to help calm her friend. When she returned with a warm tonic Bilbo had left from his armchair and now she stood in a room filled with dwarves.